- “The limits of my language are the limits of my world.” –Ludwig Wittgenstein
I can’t read anything anymore. I am surrounded by text–as are we all. But right now, here in Prague, with the exception of an occasional English word on a sign, I’m text-blind. I’ve traveled Europe before; been to places whose languages I did not know. But there were root words I could pick out. French classes from sixth grade onward allowed me to fumble my way through the many romance-language cities of Europe. And English itself has given me some help traveling Germanic-language locations. Japan was tricky. Not much to do but look for possible English on signs. Luckily, there was plenty of English in the tourist places we visited. And VISITED is the key word. Life in Japan had hard borders. Hotels, restaurants, historic, cultural, and tourist sites. Ten days. OK.
But I live here now. That means I need to know what the ad says on the Prague real estate web site. I need to know what’s on my rental agreement. My phone contract. My bank’s fine print. What could the new bright red and yellow signs placed over the metro schedule in the station mean? Why is my phone company texting me all the time? Am I running out of something? Or are they exceptionally friendly?
Czech. It’s on to me–it knows I live here. On Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube, the English has all but disappeared in ads and has been replaced by Czech. Beer ads need more explanation than you might expect. And what’s the deal with that blinking self-propelled suitcase thing? Looks like TSA’s next nightmare. But maybe in English it all makes sense…
When I travel on buses or trams the signs all over town tell me nearly nothing. While walking, I scrutinize artwork and photos on signs to try to decipher meaning. But Prague is known for its alternative thinking, its head-scratching sculptures, absurd and surreal literature, and just general weirdness. (Save it Austin, Portland, and Vermont–Prague managed to keep weird through Nazi and Soviet occupations. This is Kafkaland, afterall.) Anyway, I can’t count on the visuals here to cue me when the Prague mentality suggests it’s likely to be ironic or subversive. So what’s a girl to do? Uh huh. Learn a Slavic language. Learn Czech.
But Czech is hard, have you heard? Maybe you guessed. Before I left Central New York, I bought a Pimsleur CD Czech language course. I played it in my car and practiced just about anytime I drove anywhere. So I know a few phrases. But I don’t know how to write or read them, because there was not a book that went with these audio lessons.
Most people can’t remember when they couldn’t read. They might have memories from back before they were readers, but the memories are not typically of being unable to read. I clearly recall not being able to read. I remember looking at newspapers and books and all those little ink lines and curves that didn’t quite make pictures. It was a code. And I was unable to break it. I was seven–well into second grade–and couldn’t recognize much more than my name. I can still look at English text and relax my brain enough to only see little ink lines and curves. This recollection and ability has been beneficial when I’ve helped children learn to read. When I’m doing an “Author Visit” at a school, I always mention my struggle learning to read. I see the faces of my fellow strugglers light up when they realize that the author in front of them–the one who now writes books–had so much trouble learning to read and write. I share some brief eye contact and a quick nod with those kids to let them know I see them. I did it. They can, too. Lots of stuff is hard. But we can learn hard stuff.
It is not lost on me that one of the ways I’m earning a living in the Czech Republic is language teaching. It is also not lost on me that I am in some serious need of language learning. A few people mentioned that they hoped I would do a food post on this blog next. And I promise, I’ll get to it soon. But I wanted to tackle this topic while I still couldn’t read anything. Because very soon, I will be able to read something. A couple words here and there. A phrase. Enough to know what those phone messages say, what the metro updates mean. I can learn hard stuff. After all, I’ve done it before. I remember doing it before. And so, I begin.
Ellen Czechs It Out 